


like real people do

by bubblegumcherrypop



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Homoeroticism, M/M, Oh hell yeah, Vampire AU, painter/vampire AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29828934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumcherrypop/pseuds/bubblegumcherrypop
Summary: sachirou, a painter down on inspiration, takes up a deathly contract with strikingly enchanting vampire, kourai: in which until sachirou dies, his blood will belong to kourai. in return, kourai shall lend himself as a muse. thus begins their cohabitation till death do them part.
Relationships: Hirugami Sachirou/Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> title is from ‘like real people do’ by hozier

Sachirou knew right from the moment the floorboard outside his painting room creaked. It was a public building with no actual doors in the doorways, only crevices in the walls either side of the hallway leading to their own room - easily could have been someone simply observing Sachirou - it wasn’t rare - or an artist taking a break from their own work. Sachirou didn’t dare take his eyes off his canvas as the floorboard creaked again, almost as if whoever was there was shifting their weight. 

Their stare was piercing, presence undeniable. Sachirou put his pencil down, keeping his eyes on the rough sketch in front of him. 

“Who’s there?” He asked, composed. No reply was given other than almost undetectable footsteps approaching him from behind. If not for the force of this stranger’s presence, Sachirou would not even have known they were there. He took a breath. It was good it was a deep one, as cold - _too cold_ \- hands ever so gently found their way onto Sachirou’s neck. Their fingers languidly snaked around the front of his throat, almost tracing his windpipe. 

Sachirou had to whisper, this time. 

“You’re certainly forward.”

And, then, “are you going to kill me?” 

  
  
  


No response, only fingers solidifying their grip around his windpipe. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The floor was hard. There was a slight chill to the air and Sachirou felt heavy, throat on fire.

Though more than anything, his neck hurt. Not like how the bruising on his throat hurt from being choked felt, but more of a sharp pain; there was a slight ache around it. And _god,_ had he been laying here long? His back felt stiff, and he felt completely drained, opening his eyes seeming like an impossibility.

A slight groan left his lips as he managed to raise his hand to his eyes. Rubbing them a little and squinting them open, Sachirou noticed that it wasn’t morning anymore. There was no blinding light slipping in through the top of the window where the curtains could just barely manage to reach. 

Sachirou allowed himself to exhale, and that’s when he heard the gentle sound of breathing besides him. 

And, now, Sachirou was not the type to startle easily, but being in the shape he was in, he couldn’t not jump in his skin, scooting back into a sitting position. His widened, tired eyes blinked in an exhausted confusion before sinking back down into his usual expression.

About a metre away from him, there was what seemed to be a boy sitting with his legs crossed, head dropped in front of him. The gentle sound of breathing was his quiet snores indicating that he’d drifted off. Sachirou’s heart rate settled as he was finally able to _attempt_ to piece together what was happening. Taking a deep, steady breath, Sachirou lightly felt his throat. _Ah,_ yeah. It was probably a little bruised. Tracing his fingers downwards, more into the crook of his neck, _that’s_ when Sachirou’s demeanour threatened to break again. 

In the crook of his neck were two near _holes -_ small as they may be. Definitely tooth sized, and the shallow crevices were surrounded by dried blood. Now that things were beginning to make sense - grimness be damned, Sachirou began to take another look at his surroundings. 

The floor. The cold, hard, wooden floor had a few droplets of blood on them. The boy was still sat in the same spot, breathing lightly. Probably not in a deep sleep. (Sachirou stayed as quiet as he could.) 

And now that Sachirou was calmly assessing his surroundings, he’d decided it would be best if his assessment also included _him,_ the almost literal elephant in the room - being so clearly not human. He had stark white hair, a little short, that fell over his forehead. It was almost feather like - and Sachirou, just for a second, pondered what it would feel like to touch. And although Sachirou couldn’t get a good look at his face from the angle he was sat at, he could tell the stranger’s skin was pale. Not _stark_ white, like his hair, but strikingly pale. If Sachirou was being honest, it was gorgeous. 

The blemishes, the prominent veins on his hands, the red of his knuckles. It made Sachirou’s fingers twitch for his pencil. 

Sachirou had to see his face.

Leaning over to the side and angling his head up, he finally got a good glimpse at his face. The being’s jawline was sharp, along with his cheekbones - but the curve of his cheek was soft. So soft, in fact, that Sachirou was going to break a rule of art without even thinking twice:

  
  


Do not touch the art. 

  
  


It was just the way the being’s face looked so vulnerable but defined, Sachirou had to reach out to touch it. Only with the back of his index finger, Sachirou lightly, so lightly, touched it to the being’s face and took it down his cheek. 

And then Sachirou’s finger froze where it was as the mellow snores ceased, being’s shut eyes squinting and adjusting to the dim light, and slowly blinking open. Sachirou could only stare as their eyes met, unable to look away. 

Sachirou didn’t know what sight he’d expected to have seen upon the being’s awakening, but there was no way Sachirou could even have imagined eyes like these existing. Call him dramatic, but he was an artist. It was in his nature to study every little thing on people’s faces, the way their noses scrunch and faces contort down to a single muscle’s twitch, faded freckles and glints in the eye, differing hues. Sachirou only wanted to pursue art because of this. How it expanded his appreciation for every little thing he saw. 

  
  


Maybe it was all for this. 

The being’s eyes were wide, like the whole world had fallen into them; the shade unlike Sachirou had ever seen. A near yellow… But with small hues of green and blue speckled in his irises. His eyes were almost bird-like, much similarly to his feathered hair. 

  
  


And the being blinked and Sachirou was sucked back into reality, moving his finger back and watching as he rubbed his eyes, yawning. Again, Sachirou didn’t know what to expect, but he did not conjure the mental image of his eyes widening in shock, lips twitching not knowing what to say, seeing Sachirou awake and staring him down. 

“You…” He spluttered, “you’re awake!”

Sachirou nodded, unsure of what to make of this entire situation. “Good observation. You’re the one who knocked me out, right?”

“I- what’s it to…!” he almost seemed angered, only to take a breath and look down, away from Sachirou. “I’m sorry. I sat with you the entire time to make sure you were still breathing and- and i obviously dozed off in the process… And-”

“Even vampires aren’t above stammering, huh?” Sachirou sat back on his hands, allowing himself to chuckle, somehow. “You know, judging by how you sat by me the entire time I was knocked out, I could kinda piece together that you didn’t actually have completely malicious intent. I mean, I can’t imagine it’s all that common to strangle someone just for fun.”

  
  


The being… No, the boy hummed, seeming to squirm where he sat, looking to the ground, head down. Sachirou just looked at him for a moment, his cream, open chest blouse and black trousers and how they contrasted with his pale skin. Sachirou got up off the ground, picked up his fallen stool and sat on it, getting a new piece of paper and putting it on his easel, in front of the canvas. 

“So, my first question when I first sensed you. You never gave me an answer,” Sachirou started. “I can tell you’re clearly a vampire, so could you at least give me a name?” 

“... Hoshiumi.”

“Hoshiumi?”

“Kourai.”

  
  


“... Hoshiumi Kourai? That’s a pretty name. A little odd, though,” Sachirou admitted, but as _Kourai_ stood himself up and made his way behind Sachirou’s easel, peeking out from the side of it and squinting at him, Sachirou got the feeling there was a little something pent up inside of him. He looked straight into Kourai’s eyes and raised an eyebrow, almost attempting to prompt him to talk. 

Kourai furrowed his eyebrows. “Why aren’t…?! Why are you so… Calm? Can’t you freak out, or something?! I don’t know!” 

“Huh?” Sachirou asked, facial expression not shifting. “Oh, I mean, I’m completely shell shocked. Flabbergasted.”

“Cut it out.”

“In all honesty, though,” Sachirou positioned his thumb and index finger into L-shapes on both of his hands and created a rectangle with them, closing one eye and capturing a section of Kourai’s face within it. “Having my blood nonconsensually drained was not how I expected my Tuesday morning to go.” His hands fell down and he picked up his pencil, going to begin a sketch on the paper. 

“I already said I’m sorry-! I was hungry - and, and there was nobody else on this floor, and… you know? I doubt you’d have said yes if I _did_ ask. I just had to.” Kourai sighed, looking to the ground, hands resting on the bottom of Sachirou’s easel. 

Sachirou hummed. “You’re probably right, actually. I’d just think you were a weirdo off the streets.”

“Exactly!”

“It’s fine, though. And it’s not like we really know each other, but I’m not scared or hate you or anything. Gotta do what you gotta do, you know?” Sachirou said, idly, peering back up to Kourai, tilting his head and squinting, before returning back to his sketches.

Kourai went silent for a moment before coming outright and saying, 

  
  
  


“I think most people would be trying to run as far away from me right now.”

“Well,” Sachirou didn’t even spare Kourai a glance. 

“I also think most vampires would just drain their victims with no regard for their life.” 

  
  


Kourai couldn’t help but curtly smile. “Fair point. What’re you doing, anyway?”

“Trying to study your face.”

“Huh?”

“Like, an art study? Of your face. Of you. Honestly, I’ve been down on motivation recently, but after seeing you,” Sachirou’s hand stopped in its wake as his eyes lit up. 

“I feel like I could paint a piece that’d shake the world.” 

  
  
  


Kourai wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he stepped out from behind the easel and next to Sachirou, falling onto his knees to look at the large sheet of paper Sachirou was drawing on for himself. Sachirou was mainly just refining the rough sketches he had. 

And, then, it was time for Kourai’s eyes to light up. Sachirou could’ve sworn he felt a chill run down him, much alike to when Kourai first appeared, earlier that day. As Sachirou looked down to where Kourai knelt next to him, unmoving, breath baited. 

  
  
  


“Say, painter.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to kill me, after all.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

  
  


Kourai raised his head and looked up at Sachirou, face unreadable. 

“You want to paint something that’ll shake the world, right?”

“Huh?” Sachirou raised an eyebrow. “I only meant that metaphorically. Take it more along the lines of something that I’ll always treasure.”

“The details don’t matter,” Kourai said, as he shuffled where he sat, turning towards Sachirou with one foot propped up on the ground - knelt on one knee. “What _does_ matter, though,” Kourai’s eyes met his - Kourai’s wide, mesmerising eyes, and there was a slight tilt of his head. “ - is that I inspire you… Right?”

  
  


Sachirou hesitated before nodding, uncertain of where Kourai was headed. 

And, then, Kourai took his hand - Sachirou had to take a moment to remember to breathe. They were so cold and soft, tender, almost _fragile_ despite the prominent bones and veins. 

“First, what’s your name?”

“...Hirugami Sachirou, I didn’t realise I hadn’t mentioned it yet.”

  
  


“Sachirou, huh?” Kourai said, as if he was getting a feel for the word. “Hirugami Sachirou.”

Sachirou nodded, again, still uncertain of Kourai’s intentions.

  
  
  


“Sachirou, how would you feel about a contract?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_“Sachirou, how would you feel about a contract?”_

  
  
  


Sachirou could only sit, a little taken aback, as Kourai caressed his hand and spoke with that _voice_ , that fucking voice. This entire time, Sachirou had assumed Kourai to be a vampire; now he was reconsidering. Kourai had to have been a siren, an incubus, or something along the lines. Kourai’s vampire blood be damned, a part of Sachirou’s brain sent a silent prayer of understanding to those who’ve fallen victim to demons of temptation. 

He nodded. What else could he do? 

“Wait, what… What sort…?”

“I swear, Sachirou, if you’re thinking of anything dirty!”

“Eh? No, no…” Sachirou rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “I was thinking about you _killing me_ , not _fucking me._ ”

“Killing you?!” Kourai sounded scandalised. “Didn’t we already establish that I didn’t want to kill anyone?!”

“I mean, yeah… Sorry. Carry on.”

  
  
  


“I’ll be your muse. And, in return, your blood will belong to me, till death do us part.” 

“Hoshi- fuck, Kourai _?_ I… Didn’t you just say you didn’t want to kill me?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said your blood. You provide me with the nutrients I need to survive, I’ll be your inspiration. Pose me however you’d like. Dress me up. Stare at my skin burning in the sunlight. You think I’m beautiful, don’t you? I inspire you, right?”

“The _contract_ part, though. What do you mean by that?”

“Essentially, your body shall belong to me. It’s guaranteed protection against those vampires who don’t, actually, care for their victims. Nobody else shall ever taste your blood. And, again. In return, my body will also belong to you, as your muse,” Kourai sighed, opening his eyes to look back at Sachirou.

“- till death part us.”

Sachirou had the urge to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming. 

  
  


“We’re speaking the same language, right?” Kourai furrowed his eyebrows, lips pursing, eyes still locked onto Sachirou’s own. Even visibly annoyed and asking Sachirou to give him his body till death, Sachirou’s hand was aching to capture it. Every expression Kourai could make.

This was all so surreal. He hadn’t even had his damn coffee yet, he was _about_ to go to the local cafe until a damn _vampire_ choked him unconscious out of thin air, and he had two small, shallow crevices in his neck that weren’t there only a few hours ago. Maybe the tiredness was catching up to him, or maybe he was just imagining all of this and going mad. Maybe Sachirou’s brain was so fried from the art block he’d manifested this _hallucination_ who looked like he was carved in the heavens. He was definitely going round the bend, at any rate.

  
  


Sachirou couldn’t help but laugh. He was going to sleep like a log tonight.

“Sure, why the hell not?”

  
  


When coming across a being not human, even if they had absolutely nothing to offer, surely anyone would be so fascinated as to let them cohabitate with you, right? Call it human nature. 

And, so, all in a haze: sharp fangs were softly biting the nape of his neck, and Sachirou found the world going black. He couldn’t remember how he got home.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> the second part is already halfway written <3
> 
> kudos + comments appreciated ! have a nice day 
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/icedmo_)


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